


he still shatters always (cause of every tear he'd ever weep)

by aletterinthenameofsanity



Series: I've lost control, please save me from myself (4.08 fix-it) [2]
Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Blood and Violence, Connor Deserves Happiness, Emotional Manipulation, Fix-It, M/M, Oliver Deserves Happiness, Shooting, Too bad people have to get extremely...well...almost murdered first
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-17
Updated: 2017-11-24
Packaged: 2019-02-03 16:57:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12752418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aletterinthenameofsanity/pseuds/aletterinthenameofsanity
Summary: Ever since Oliver found out about the murders his boyfriend had been involved with, he’d braced himself for something like that to happen to him. He’d accepted that death clung to Connor and his friends like the stench of a skunk and had tried to prepare himself mentally for whatever disaster came along.This is nothing like what he’d imagined. His fiance is laying on the ground, a bullet from Laurel’s gun buried in his gut, and there is blood everywhere.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Run" by Hozier.
> 
> I haven't actually seen the mid season finale yet, but I live-followed the updates from watchers on Tumblr. I'm pissed. I actually posted on Tumblr last night on how I would feel a lot less emotionally ripped-off if Connor had gotten shot and not the just-outed DACA immigrant. It's just in poor taste to kill off your marginalized POC just to avoid doing damage to your main character. So, as a continuation of the fix-it fic I wrote after last week's episode, this is my fix-it for the first half of the season.
> 
> Also, I just listened to IAMX (Happiness, Look Outside, and Insomnia) and Hozier (Run, Foreigner's God, To Be Alone, Sedated, It Will Come Back, Work Song) while writing this. It's a really good soundtrack.

Ever since Oliver found out about the murders his boyfriend had been involved with, he’d braced himself for something like that to happen to him. He’d accepted that death clung to Connor and his friends like the stench of a skunk and had tried to prepare himself mentally for whatever disaster came along.

This is nothing like what he’d imagined. His fiance is laying on the ground, a bullet from Laurel’s gun buried in his gut, and there is blood everywhere. Connor is gasping out Oliver’s name, and Oliver is trying to staunch the bleeding by pressing his jacket into the wound. Simon is freaking out in the background, Michaela is right next to Oliver, trying frantically to do whatever he can to help Connor, and Asher is frantically calling 911. Laurel has a gun in her hands, the barrel pointed at Connor’s stomach. 

(The twist-tie ring is soaked in Connor’s blood.)

Connor’s eyes fall shut and his breathing slows. Oliver thinks he hears sirens in the background, but he can’t be sure.

This is never what was supposed to happen. Oliver might lose Connor, might lose the love of his life, and all because Laurel couldn’t stop with this insane plan of hers.

Connor might be dying, and Oliver can’t stop sobbing.


	2. don't give it a hand, offer it a soul (honey, don't feed it, it will come back)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title is from "It Will Come Back" by Hozier.

_**One Day Earlier** _

They head up the stairs in front of Laurel’s apartment, hand in hand. Connor feels grateful that he and Oliver have worked through most of their issues, that they are at a good enough place for Connor to offer marriage and Oliver to agree.

Connor knocks on Laurel's door, and she opens it. "What do you want?" She asks, and he spits the rest of his friends behind her. Asher and Michaela seem like they were just debating something, and when they see him they shut up. 

"I want you to stop," Connor says, pushing into the room. Oliver comes with him. He sees the way that Laurel's glaring at him. “Or if I try, are you gonna tie me up like we did Rebecca?” Connor asks as he steps inside. “Because I won’t let you sacrifice yourselves for this."

“No, we wouldn’t do that,” Michaela immediately jumps in, and Oliver nods, looking horrified at the idea.

(Thank god. At least Connor knows that if shit goes down, he’ll have Oliver on his side.)

Laurel, on the other hand, looks like she’s almost seriously contemplating the idea. Fuck.

“This plan is _stupid_ ,” Connor says bluntly. “It could get all of you in serious trouble and, worse comes to worse, _killed._ I’m not letting the people I care about endanger themselves like this.” He looks around at everyone save Laurel, who obviously can't be argued with. “We were doing so well,” he says, “We were trying to get better. If we stop now, we can continue to do that.”

“No,” Laurel says, “We’re all gonna do it, and we’re gonna do it for Wes.”

“No,” Connor says. “I’m not letting you guilt everyone any further than you already have.” He looks at Michaela and Asher. His hand is in Oliver’s, for strength for them both. He can feel the twist-tie ring around Oliver’s ring finger. “We’re all gonna walk away, and _no one else_ is gonna get hurt.”

“Fine, then,” Laurel says, “If you won’t do it for Wes then I’ll expose you all. I’ll pin all the blame for what’s about to go down on Michaela and Oliver.” Oliver’s hand tightens in his as Michaela and Asher visibly stiffen across from them.

“You can’t do that,” Michaela says, but her voice shakes. Connor knows that she and Oliver did all of the dirty work, that Laurel was never actually involved in the spying or gathering of information.

She definitely _can_ do this, and he very sincerely doubts that she wouldn't. Laurel may have started off idealistic, but she definitely isn't as innocent as she always claimed. Manipulating everyone and taking advantage of their guilt over the past few months speaks volumes about what she's willing to do.

A sick feeling settles in his gut.

“I won’t even have to frame you for it- your prints are all over everything. You two are the ones who hacked Tegan’s account, who spied on Antares, who left an electronic trail over everything.”

A deadly pause. Connor knows that he won't do anything that will endanger Oliver, and as he looks over he sees Asher grab Michaela's hand. He knows that she has all four of them where she wants them- doing what she wants, acting like her puppets. Seems like Laurel picked up plenty from her father, far more than any of them anticipated.

“C’mon, guys,” she says, voice gently prodding, “We've gotta take down my dad. It's the right thing to do.”

At this rate, the "Right thing to do" doesn't matter. Getting out of this mess does.

"Fine," he says.

 

_Oliver looks up and around and sees that Laurel is standing in the corner of the office. The gun she shot Connor with is gone._

_Fury begins to build up in his stomach. “If he dies,” Oliver chokes out, trying to keep pressure on the wound, “I’ll_ never _forgive you.” He can't read the emotions on Laurel’s face, but to be frank, he doesn’t care. “Get_ out _,” he hisses, “And if I_ ever _see you again, I swear, I will_ destroy _you. I will expose every secret you’ve ever hidden, send it all flying around the internet without regard for the damage it will do.”_

_A small gasping sound comes from Connor’s throat and Oliver looks down. Connor’s eyes are still closed, and his breathing is near nonexistent. Oliver’s heart seizes._

_When Oliver looks up again a few moments later, she is gone._

Good riddance, _he wants to say, but can’t speak past the lump in his throat. Connor’s blood is soaking into his hands, getting under his fingertips, and Oliver has no idea what he can do next-_

 

Connor and Oliver are out in the hallway, away from Laurel, when Oliver speaks up.

“You don’t have to help,” Oliver says. “You don’t have to get involved with all of this.”

“No,” Connor says, gritting his teeth. He thought he’d gotten out of all of this. He’d been so happy, so safe, and now- now, in order to protect his fiance, to protect his friends (Michaela and Asher, not Laurel, not anymore), he’ll have to get involved. “I’ve gotta keep you all from getting everything fucked up.” He gives Oliver a dry smile. “Who ever thought I would be the voice of reason?”

Oliver chuckles. “Certainly never me.”

Connor rolls his eyes. “Says my fiance.”

“ _You_ asked me,” Oliver says. “Certainly you value my opinions.”

“ _You_ said yes,” Connor says. “You seem to make a lot of insane decisions-”  
Oliver ducks in and presses a long kiss to Connor’s mouth. Connor presses back, his hands going to Oliver’s hair, and then they’re making out on the stairs outside of Laurel’s apartment. Connor lets himself get lost in Oliver’s touch, lets himself forget about what’s happening.

-

They fall asleep in the blanket fort, unable to dredge up the energy to take it apart and put everything away.

(And besides, it’s kind of uplifting and silly compared to all the depressing shit they’re taking part in. It’s a nice distraction from the despair looming over them.)

 

 _As if things weren’t already bad as possible, the door opens and Tegan walks in. “I heard a shot and someone screaming-” she starts, and stops as she sees the sight on the floor. “What the_ fuck _?”_

_“Ambulance is on its way,” Michaela reports, and the shift in her demeanor is astounding._

Please don’t die, please don’t die, please don’t die- _Oliver pleads, but blood is still leaking out even with the jacket over top of the wound._

_“Who is that?” Tegan asks, immediately regaining her composure. The woman didn’t make partner for nothing, after all._

_“Oliver’s boyfriend,” Michaela says._

_“No,” Oliver corrects, voice close to a sob, “He’s my fiance. He proposed last night.”_

_“Oh shit,” Asher mutters. The phone is down from his ear- the call with 911 must have ended._

_Connor's breathing seems to have stopped, and his chest has stopped moving._

(Oh fuck no, please god, I'll do anything, don't let him die-)

_“Michaela,” Oliver says and jerks his head toward Connor's. Michaela glances at what he's gesturing to, nods, and scrambles over to start compressions. Connor's blood stains the bottom of her dress as she scoots across the floor, but Oliver can barely focus on it as he tries to keep his fiance alive._

_Then Tegan, miracle of all miracles, nudges off her heels and crouches down next to Connor. “Anything I can do to help?” she asks._

_Oliver, whose arms are about to give out, realizes that he's gonna need help pressing down in just a minute or two. He doesn't want to let go of Connor, but he knows it's necessary. “Here,” he says, and jerks her body in the direction of his jacket. Tegan nods and slides her hands in next to his. “Keep pressing,” he says, and as she presses down he lets go._

_He slumps back, rocking back to sit on the ground. His blood-stained hand finds Connor’s limp one. He won’t let go until paramedics get here, and even then he’ll stay by Connor’s side. He_ can’t _leave._

_“What happened?” she hisses once she’s firmly in position. “How’d your fiance end up bleeding to death in my office?”_

_“It’s a long story,” Asher offers as Oliver tries to find the strength to answer._

_“It’s only ten,” Tegan says, voice wry, “I’ve got plenty of time to find out why someone_ attempted murder _in my office.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This ended up being split into two parts. Hope y'all don't mind too much.  
> Third part is also a lot longer, too.


	3. screaming the name (the purest expression of grief)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title is from "Foreigner's God" by Hozier.
> 
> Um, well...damn. Prepare yourselves for the ride. It's gonna get pretty bumpy.

**_Two hours earlier_ **

Three years ago, Oliver was a normal adult. Sure, he was gay, and yes, he was Asian, but he was a normal, slightly-above-average-at-programming, adult who happened to go home with a hot guy after a night out with a few of his co-workers. He had had no idea of what was about to happen, no clue that his life was about to become a soap opera that included hacking, cheating, murder, law school conspiracies, and lots and lots of sex.

Hacking and having sex with Connor became as addicting as crack, and he couldn't stop himself from coming back. Eventually the addiction became even stronger when lust fell into actual feelings for the law student, who cheated on him (which sucked, and led to their first break up), but then there had been the "drug" issue and a crawl back to trust.

Then he became something between boyfriends and friends with Connor, and he still wasn't exactly sure where they stood when the HIV bomb dropped. He was sure that Connor would leave him, but then... _ then- _ Connor had stayed. Not only had he stayed, he had moved in and cooked dinner (way better than Oliver could cook, by the way) and spent nights binging old movies.

Then somewhere, in among drama and HIV and kisses and surprisingly well-cooked pasta, Oliver fell in love, and he knows Connor did too.

Which leads him to here, where Connor has been dragged into the same mess that he got guilt-tripped into a few months ago.

As he stands here at the counter, champagne flute in hand, he can't help but remember why he's here, why Connor is here. Connor could have left, but when Oliver told him about all the lies, he stayed. When Laurel threatened Oliver, he stayed. 

(Three years ago, Oliver hadn’t thought that Connor would stay. The man who had constantly warned Oliver about getting too close, who had refused the label of ‘boyfriend’ for months, seemed to be a relationship that would last as quickly as sed held interest. Connor had given Oliver one of the best surprises of his life when not only had Connor stayed then, but  _ continued _ to stay for years.)

Oliver twists the twist-tie ring around his finger, drawing happiness and strength from the sensation. It's as homemade a sentiment as you can get, out of place among the glitz and glamour of Caplan and Gold, but it means everything. Connor trusts him. Connor loves him. Connor wants to spend a lifetime with him. Even after everything, they've finally made it through.

(They just only have to make it through tonight, and they'll be good.)

“You good?” Connor asks, raising an eyebrow. 

“Of course I am,” Oliver says, “I'm here with you.”

Connor smirks. “You’re sappier than Michaela after a night of tequila shots.”

“I’ll tell her you said that.”

“She’ll kill me,” Connor says.

“You’ll deserve it,” Oliver teases, and takes a sip of his champagne.

Then Simon walks by and suddenly Oliver gets sucked back into the reality of the absolutely insane plan they’re trying to pull off.

“Fuck,” he mutters before he takes a sip of champagne. 

“Language, Hampton,” Connor teases, but Oliver can't tear his eyes away from Simon's back. Simon is his only friend outside of the Keating Four, and they're about to betray him. A sour taste settles in Oliver's mouth.

Connor frowns, probably noticing the change in Oliver's expression, and turns to see where Oliver is looking. “Oh,” he says, voice so soft that Oliver can barely hear it over the soft roar of voices in the offices.

“I wish we didn't have to do it,” Connor says, and places a hand on the one Oliver has sitting on the counter. “I _really_ do, but if we don't, Laurel will…”

Oliver nods, hating himself. “I know."

Connor leans in and presses a quick kiss to Oliver's lips. "When this is over with, you can always come and help Annalise and I with the class-action."

Oliver gives a fragile chuckle. "Sounds like fun."

-

Later on, Oliver is standing by himself. Connor is off somewhere on the other side of the offices and Oliver's waiting to hear back from Michaela about Tegan’s keycard.

“Oliver, can I talk to you in private?” Simon asks.

Oliver glances around and doesn’t see Connor. They have some time before everything has to go down, so he sees nothing wrong in talking to his only friend outside of the Keating Four.

“Sure,” he says, and follows Simon into the corridor. 

 

_ An agony later, Oliver can hear the sound of paramedics at the far end of the office. Simon calls, “I’ll get them!” and slips out of the room, leaving the rest of them behind. _

_ “You owe me an explanation after all this, Pratt,” Tegan says, “How your friend and his fiancé ended up covered in blood.” _

_ By this point, Asher and Michaela have traded off trying to get air into Connor’s mouth, but he’s still not breathing yet. Oliver’s heart is slamming against his chest and his breath is coming fast and he wishes there was something he could do. He's swiftly becoming useless, paralyzed by panic and a lack of help he can give. His fingers are numb and covered in Connor's blood, Michaela and Asher and Tegan having to keep Connor alive as he can't. _

_ “He can't die,” Oliver mutters, “He can't die, not now, not after everything…” _

_ “He's breathing!” Asher shouts, and when he pulls back from Connor's mouth there are a few drops of blood smeared against his face and lips. Even as the paramedics enter the room, even as Oliver’s heart should be calming due to Connor breathing again, his nightmare seems to be getting worse. There is blood on Connor's lips. The bullet probably hit something vital, or at least major, to cause blood to come out of Connor's mouth. _

_ The likelihood of Connor surviving are getting worse and worse by the second. _

 

"Look, Ollie," Simon says, "I just wanna apologize for being a jerk about Connor."

"Ah, it's fine," Oliver says, "Sometimes he can be a bit abrasive-" Because truthfully, no matter how wonderful and sweet Connor can be in his good moments, he can still be a bit of an ass.

"No, man," Simon says, "To be honest, I don't even hate the guy. It's just, um, I like you." 

The world spins. This is nothing that Oliver ever could have predicted.

"Really?" Oliver says, voice brittle as every one of his old insecurities resurfaces.

Simon nods. "You're a really sweet guy, Oliver, and it's easy to like you."

“Well, I’m truly sorry,” Oliver says, “Not about the fact that I love Connor, but that you like a guy that can’t like you back. You’re a great guy, Simon, and one of my best friends, and I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Simon says with a shrug. “I’m used to it. It’ll be fine- I'm already getting over it. I'd like to thank you for keeping my secrets, though. That's kind of what started my crush on you.”

And then Oliver realizes that he can’t take it anymore. The lies, the secret keeping, etc. If their plan works- and despite everything going wrong, Oliver hopes it will- then it won't matter if they tell Simon now.

What they’re about to do to Simon- a guy just like Oliver, who has suffered through being Asian and gay his whole life, much less being undocumented- has got to be one of the shittiest things Oliver has ever done.

He makes a split second decision and prays that it all works out.

“You know what,” he says, “You’ve gotta come with me and talk to everyone. There’s something you need to know.”

“Oh, fuck,” Simon says, “What did Walsh and his idiot friends get up to this time?”

“Ironically enough,” Oliver says, dialling Connor's number to find out where his fiancé is, “This one is actually not Connor's fault at all.” He clicks the  _ call  _ option next to Connor's name and holds the phone up to his ear. Connor picks up on the first ring.“Where are you?” Oliver asks.

“Tegan’s office,” Connor says, voice irritated, “Trying to convince Laurel not to do something stupid.”

“Got it. See you in a minute. Love you.”

“Love you too. Bye.”

“Bye.”

Oliver hangs up the phone and slides it back into his pocket.

“They're meeting in Tegan’s office,” Oliver says, and starts off down the hallway.

“They're all crazy,” Simon says, rolling his eyes, but he does follow Oliver down the corridor and toward Tegan’s office. “And you seem so normal, so rational. How could you ever let yourself get caught up in all of their insanity?”

“Trust me,” Oliver says, “You don't wanna know. It's a long story, let's leave it at that.”

 

_ Oliver is stuck in the waiting room, Michaela and Asher on one side and Simon, to his surprise, on the other. Tegan was in a little while ago, but he hasn’t seen her in at least fifteen minutes. _

_ (He called Annalise, but she didn’t pick up.) _

_ Laurel is gone- she disappeared before the police arrived. Oliver has no idea where she went, but he knows if he saw her anywhere near then he...he honestly has no idea what he would do. After having to sit in the office next to a pool of his fiancé’s blood and have to give a witness statement recalling every excruciating detail, not knowing what would happen or if Connor would live, Oliver’s not exactly operating on normal right now. _

_ Oliver can’t concentrate on anything. He can’t get on his phone for distraction, like Asher and Simon, and he can’t try to read like Michaela. He can't call his bosses or partners like Tegan. He can only stare at the twist-tie ring on his finger. He tried to wash it off in the sink in the bathroom here, but there’s still blood on it.  _ Connor's _ blood. His fiancé’s blood decorating the ring he just proposed with last night. _

_ (Last night, less than twenty four hours ago, they were in a blanket fort with Connor laying out his heart, asking Oliver if he'd marry him. ‘Til death do us part- Oliver never thought that could be this soon.) _

_ Tegan enters the waiting room from the back, phone in hand. “I've talked to the executive partners,” she says, and there's a look of disgust on her face. “They're willing to pay whatever needed so that you won't sue them for lax security.” She shoots him an apologetic look. “I know that won't cover it, especially if there's permanent damage, but that's what we have to live with. I just want you to know that I personally wish your fiancé all the health and help he could possibly get.” _

_ At least they won't have to worry about medical expenses, but Oliver could barely care about that. All he cares about is whether Connor is dying in there. What would life be like without Connor? Oliver knows he’d survive- a broken heart wouldn’t kill him- but his life has kind of formed its way around Connor’s presence. How hollow would his world be with this gaping absence? _

_ The apartment would be empty. The bed neat. The world dim. _

_ "Thank you, Tegan," Oliver manages to choke out. _

_ "You as well, Mr. Hampton," she says, and he wonders when she learned his name. Was it when he was in shock as the paramedics managed to get oxygen into Connor and stabilize the wound? Was it during his witness statement? Was it when he was riding to the hospital and Michaela may have told her? _

_(It doesn't really matter, but it is a mindless distraction. It helps.)_  

_ A doctor emerges. “Family of Connor Walsh?” _

_ Oliver instantly springs to his feet. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees everyone else rise to their feet. “I’m his fiancé, Oliver Hampton.” _

_ The doctor’s face softens. “My name is Dr. Angela Ramirez, and I am the attending surgeon for Connor Walsh. He’s stabilized,” she says, and Oliver’s heart finally begins to calm. Connor’s okay. Connor will  _ not  _ be dying today. “He’s lost a lot of blood, and he flatlined once, but for now it’s believed that he will make a full recovery.” _

_ “Can we see him?” Michaela asks, anxious. _

_ “I can take family back first,” Dr. Ramirez answers Michaela, and then turns back to Oliver. “I assume that would be you, Mr. Hampton?” _

_ Oliver nods and follows her out. They head down a few corridors, all the way down to room 152.  _

_ He reaches the door of Connor’s hospital room and he freezes at the door because there, lying pale on the bed with bandages wrapped around his torso, IVs stuck in his arms, and an oxygen mask hooked to his face, is Connor. His recently shaved hair makes his head look smaller and more vulnerable than normal. This is not the arrogant man Oliver met three and a half years ago: this is Oliver's fiancé, half-dead. _

_ Oliver sits down next to Connor and takes Connor’s hand in his. Connor’s hand is so cold, so lifeless. _

_ For the nth time this evening, he has to stop himself from sobbing. _

_ “Anyone else I can send in?" The doctor offers. "You’re allowed three visitors at a time, though it would probably be advantageous to only send in two at first.” _

_ Annalise isn’t here, so… “Michaela is his best friend.” At least, she was a few months ago. “You can send her in.” _

_ The doctor leaves and for a few minutes, it is just Oliver and Connor's comatose body. Oliver stares at the stark whiteness of Connor's body around the bandages, Connor's already pale body made a whiter shade of pale by blood loss and disinfection by the surgeons. His hand, held in Oliver's, is a similar hue, made even more intense by the difference in skin color.  _

_ (Oliver rarely thinks about their difference in race nowadays, certainly less than he did when they first got together. Where they came from is far less important than who they are now.) _

_ Michaela enters the room, her jacket draped over her arms in front of her chest. There is blood splattered around the neckline of her dress. _

_ (Oliver can't stop thinking about the fact that all of this blood is Connor's.) _

_ She looks over at Connor and she lets out a small gasp. “Oh god,” she whispers as she finds her way to the chair next to Oliver's. “He looks so small.” _

_ Oliver nods.“This is all my fault,” he croaks. _

_ “You can’t blame yourself, Ollie,” Michaela says. “You didn’t aim that gun at his head.” _

_ “But he only got involved because Laurel threatened  _ us _. You and me. He was trying to be better. I let myself be guilted into this whole mess, and that led to Connor getting hurt. We did so many bad things, Michaela, and Connor getting shot may not have been directly our fault but we did help cause it.” _

_ Michaela grabs his free hand, and his gaze instantly goes to the blood dried into the cuffs of his sleeves and the hem of her dress. His jacket is long gone, left at the scene for the police, but their clothes are stained with the blood from Connor’s bullet wound. Oliver’s fiancé’s blood is all over their clothes. _

_ The lump in his throat just grows. _

_ “You did  _ not  _ shoot him,” she says, “Laurel did. She went crazy and shot him. It was not you, it was not us- it was all her.  _ She  _ blackmailed Connor.  _ She  _ shot him.” Her hand is shaking but her voice firm as she says, “Don’t you  _ dare  _ blame yourself for what that  _ monster  _ did.” _

_ Oliver knows he won’t be able to stop blaming himself, not any time soon, but Michaela does have a point. Laurel was the one who made all of this happen, who couldn’t let go of hatred and revenge long enough to let them all be the better people they were trying to be. _

_ “Alright,” he says, and she nods. _

_ “Good,” she says, tone firm but voice shaking. “So… you’re engaged, then?” Michaela asks, smile fragile. _

_ Oliver nods and glances down at the hand that’s holding Connor’s. The twist-tie ring is still there, still stained with a few dried red spots. He smiles feebly as he thinks back to last night, when he had felt such relief after finally opening up to Connor. “He proposed to me in a blanket fort with a ring made out of twist-ties.” _

_ Michaela lets out a small, helpless giggle. “Connor Walsh did that? Wow, Ollie, you really have turned him soft, haven't you?” _

_ “He always says that I’m the sap,” Oliver says. A helpless chuckle bubbles up. “In fact, tonight he says I’m sappier than you after a night of tequila shots.” _

_“Once he's better, I’m gonna get him for that,” she tries to tease, but the reminder of what’s happened to Connor almost sends Oliver back into tears. He's stopped, however, by a man in a nurse's uniform showing up at the door._  

_ “Are either of you Oliver Hampton or Michaela Pratt?” The nurse asks, and Michaela stands up.  _

_ “Yes,” she says, “That’s me.” _

_ “There's a woman here with a baby. She says that a friend of yours nearly bled out in an elevator. A premature birth. The woman- Annalise, I think her name was- resuscitated the baby.” _

_ Laurel. _

 

Oliver walks in on Laurel pulling a gun out of her bag and Connor’s consequent reaction.

“You brought a gun? Alright, I’m  _ out _ ,” Connor says. “I’m going home.” He turns slightly, as if to leave, and sees Oliver. “Ollie, meet you there.”

“You’re not leaving,” Laurel says, and look in her eyes is terrifying because it’s not crazy, it’s not even angry- it’s stone cold. “My father  _ has  _ to go down. You understand that.”

“You can’t stop me. I won’t stand around as someone  _ else  _ gets killed.”

“Someone  _ else _ ?” Simon mutters behind them, but all Oliver can look at is Connor and Laurel.

“Yes I can,” Laurel says, then pulls out the gun and points it at Connor. The room explodes, with Simon and Asher shouting and Oliver jumping to Connor’s side. 

“Make one move and you’re a goner.”

“You wouldn’t shoot me,” Connor says. “You’re not a murderer.”

“I’m not joking, Connor,” Laurel says, and neither her voice nor her hands shake. Oliver flashes back to what he knows about her childhood, about what has happened with her father. What all happened to her as a child? What did she learn? What did she become desensitized to? 

(A few months ago she told Connor to kill himself- what will she do now?)

“You helped kill Wes. I’m not afraid of inflicting the same on you if you try and stop us from avenging him.”

Oh, fuck-

“Laurel,” Connor says, and steps forward.

The gun goes off, and blood sprays as Connor’s body arches back. Then he drops, falling to the ground.

Oliver screams.

 

_ Laurel. Emotions war inside Oliver- horror that Laurel nearly bled out giving birth, sympathy that Annalise had to resuscitate the baby- but fury wins out. Now that he's not actively trying to save Connor's life, he has room to be enraged with Laurel. No, not just rage- hatred. Hatred that she shot Connor, that she put her own quest for vengeance over all of their lives. _

_ Before Oliver can figure out what to say, an unexpected voice speaks up. _

_ “Where is she?” Michaela asks, and as if on cue Annalise comes in, face perfectly made up despite the blood (as if they needed  _ more  _ blood) littering her clothes.  _

_ “Right here, Ms. Pratt,” Annalise says as she slides into the seat on the side of Connor’s hospital bed opposite Michaela and Oliver. “Fresh from delivering Ms. Castillo’s baby. She’s in the hospital, recovering-” Annalise stops as she notices the look of fury on Oliver’s face. “Mr. Hampton, what’s the matter?” _

_ “She shot Connor,” Oliver says, and Annalise’s face turns stony. _

_ “Laurel shot Connor?” she repeats. _

_ (With a start, Oliver realizes that this is the first time he’s heard her not call Connor  _ Mr. Walsh.)

_ He nods. “In cold blood, point blank at the party at Caplan and Gold tonight.” _

_ “And then she came to me,” Annalise says slowly but clearly, as if processing but wanting to give the appearance of professionalism. _

_ “Did she have a gun on her?” Michaela asks, taking charge of the situation in a way that Oliver never could, not when he has Connor’s limp hand in his. _

_ “Not that I saw,” Annalise says, voice soft as her gaze travels up and down Connor’s prone form. “But I was a bit preoccupied so it is possible that I may have missed it.” _

_ "I can understand that," Oliver says, voice shaking. _

_ “So I delivered her baby right after she shot Connor,” Annalise says, and something in her voice shakes. Oliver has never known Annalise to show much emotion, but then again, he’s never been there at any of the previous murders. He was there when everyone arrived at the hospital, but he’s never been there in the moment, watching Annalise. _

_ (His introduction to the Keating Four’s murder witness circle was his fiancé’s shooting. How fucked up is that?) _

_ Or has he? When Wes died, Annalise didn’t show any emotion. She was completely under control when her house burned down, figuring out how to keep everything as close to being under wraps as possible. _

_ Something about this- maybe it’s that Connor was shot, maybe it was something else- is pushing her past the brink. Oliver has a feeling that despite whatever partnership Connor and Annalise formed in the past few weeks, it’s not just Connor’s shooting that has unseated her. It’s definitely enough to upend his world, but he’s Connor’s fiancé. He’s been in love with Connor for at least two years. Annalise has not. _

_ Was it the baby? Annalise never had kids, not that he’s aware of, but maybe she experienced something like a near-death with a child or baby once in the past. Who knows? When it comes to Annalise Keating, nothing is certain. _

_ “What happened to the baby, exactly?” Michaela asks, and something in Annalise’s face shifts. _

_ “Ms. Castillo had a premature labor in the elevator of my hotel and collapsed. The elevator stuck, so I had to deliver the child. At first the infant was not breathing, but I performed CPR." _

_ (And at the same time, Michaela and Asher were doing the same thing to try and keep Connor alive across the city.) _

_ "I called 911 and they picked up Ms. Castillo and the baby and took them to the hospital. They had to go in separate ambulances so I rode with the baby. That was when I learned that, well _ _...the baby was white.” _

_ Fuck. Laurel’s Latina and Wes was African-American, so that means... _

_ “She cheated on Wes?” Michaela asks, and that's the only possible conclusion. _

_ Annalise nods. "I'd assume so." _

_ Oliver's voice shakes as he says, "So the past few months, when she roped us into all of this because she wanted vengeance of Wes' behalf, it wasn't grief on her part but  _ guilt _?" His voice grows furious unlike he has never sounded before. "Connor was shot because of her guilt complex, not grief-driven insanity? I will fucking  _ destroy  _her."_

_ “Freakin’ Barry Allen,” a voice rasps, and Oliver looks down to see Connor blinking at him. _

_ “Oh my god, Connor!” Oliver nearly shouts, a teary smile springing to his lips. “You're awake!” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um...I'm not even gonna apologize.

**Author's Note:**

> Second part is a LOT longer than the first. This was just a set up chapter, a flash-forward of sorts.  
> Hope y'all like it!


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